


Sweet Temptations

by ghostofgatsby



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Dating, First Aid, Fluff, Holding Hands, Ice Cream, Kissing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Vampires, october17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: Sips’ Sundaes was an ice cream parlor not-so-secretly for supernatural and human customers both. So far, Sips had yet to actually make anything vampires specifically could enjoy, but humans kept coming back without complaint. Trott liked his job serving customers while Sips worked in the cold storage room mixing new flavors. The time Trott got to spend chatting with the cute postal delivery guy was also a nice bonus.





	Sweet Temptations

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for Monster Prompt Week, for vampire day.  
> prompts: http://threeplusfire.tumblr.com/post/165622933491/prompt-week-monster-edition
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2017/10/14/sweet-temptations-ghostofgatsby
> 
> cw: blood, biting, blood drinking, minor injuries (bicycle accident, i.e. scrapes to hands/arms), first aid  
> if I need to tag anything, let me know.

Bright red cherry syrup slides down the inside of the frosted sundae glass, smearing the vanilla ice cream in swirls of pink. Trott pushes a rectangular vanilla wafer cookie into the soft serve topped with rainbow sprinkles, and hands the dish to the customer across the counter. The bells on the shop door chime when it opens, and a sour, metallic tang of blood is cast in on a waft of humid summer air.

The smell tugs at something primal inside of him- an impulse to sustain himself on the lifeforce that he knows surges within all humans. Blood that vampires drink to survive.

It’s a necessity, but not a _need_ while at work. The faint smell of blood is soon overcome by ozone and car exhaust, and Trott shrugs off the momentary fixation. He wrinkles his nose in concern, looking towards the open door as the attractive neighborhood delivery person, Ross, awkwardly limps into the ice cream parlor, holding his hands out in front of him with a pained look on his face.

“Sorry, um. I...crashed my bicycle. Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?” Ross asks, catching Trott’s gaze and wincing. He shuffles closer to the counter, arms half-curled in front of him. His dark blue postal uniform is unkempt and dirty, and the pants are torn at the knee. He looks like a zombie, and the sight makes Trott tamp down a laugh.

“Yeah, back here, let me show you.” Trott gestures around the ice cream freezers, along the line of counters past seated patrons. Tom, the part-time student Sips hired during the week, is wiping off a table, and Trott asks him to keep an eye on the till while he’s helping Ross.

Trott leads Ross through the door across from the entrance, to a small storage room and break room. He hangs up his turquoise apron and hat on the provided hooks before washing his hands and finding Ross a seat. One of the extra barstools is next to a cabinet, underneath the phone attached to the wall with the book of emergency numbers and employee rights, and the first aid kit.

Trott licks his lips and frowns. He can smell Ross’ blood in the air, without city pollution and shop A/C to mix with it. It’s a faint sour-sweet smell that calls to him, making him hunger for a taste, but he pushes down the temptation.

Ross tries to reach for the first aid kit hanging on the wall by the phone, but Trott waves him off.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine, I can-”

Trott shakes his head, taking the kit down and pulling over another bar stool to sit across from him. “With both hands scraped up? You lost quite a bit of skin.”

Ross looks down at himself, at the rugged scrapes on his palms and the side of his hands and arms, where the worst of the bleeding is. “I was going too fast on my bike, and flipped over a fire hydrant. I’ve gotten piled on with a lot more deliveries this week, and not a lot of time to finish them in,” he informs.

Trott carefully cleans up the abrasions and tapes small piece of gauze over the biggest ones. “You’re lucky you didn’t wind up with a broken wrist, or worse,” he says, holding Ross’ hands in his for longer than necessary while he works. There’s an awkward beat when he realizes he’s finished and they’re still holding hands, and he let’s go, clearing his throat. “Deliveries are rough. Just...you know, try to be more careful next time.”

“Yeah. I’ll try.” Ross’ smile is sweet, and it makes his blue eyes crinkle at the edges. “Your name’s Trott, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Trott double checks his nametag is on and chuckles as they get to their feet.

“Well, thanks, Trott.” Ross ducks his head shyly, straightening some of his askew clothes.

Trott puts the first aid kit and bar stools away. “Yeah, you’re welcome. Don’t wreck yourself worse than that outside the shop, though, mate. I don’t want to have to scrape you off the pavement. My boss, Sips, will definitely make me clean that up.” They share a laugh. “But hey, next time you come by, come have a free sundae on me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ross meets Trott’s eyes again and smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

Sips’ Sundaes was an ice cream parlor not-so-secretly for supernatural and human customers both. Non-human customers often had very distinct palettes and tastes. So far, Sips had yet to actually make anything vampires specifically could enjoy, but humans kept coming back without complaint. Trott liked his job- it kept him busy, and Sips let him make his own schedule, since it was just the two of them working full time- serving customers while Sips worked in the cold storage room mixing new flavors. Their customers were mostly decent, and the time Trott got to spend chatting with the cute postal delivery guy was also a nice bonus.

Ross is still talking to Trott, and finishing his free sundae later that week, when someone stumbles into him at the counter.

“Hah, soz there, mate,” he chuckles and pats Ross on the shoulder.

Trott looks away from Ross and scowls. “Smith, for the millionth time, take the back door-”

Smith flashes them a lazy grin, and Trott rolls his eyes at the teeth marks on his neck, still bleeding slightly. Sips’ boy toy, always stopping in for a bite and strolling out from the back room in front of the customers being served. It’s just...impolite. And unsanitary.

“He doesn’t work here, for the record,” Trott mumbles to Ross, when Smith has left out the front entrance, “He’s just close with Sips.”

Ross doesn’t say anything for a moment, licking his spoon clean. Trott tries desperately not to stare at the melted chocolate ice cream on Ross’ tongue, or his bright blue eyes staring back at him. He focuses instead at the barest hint of attractive gray hair in Ross’ spiked-up fringe.

“I sort of knew already. Or guessed. About. Well.” Ross lets the spoon clatter into the empty sundae dish. He lowers his voice. “The vampire thing? That’s not an issue with me. I don’t mind.”

Trott nods slowly, taking Ross’ glass and moving it to the bin to be washed up later. “Good to know. You’re a good guy, Ross.”

Ross chews his lip for a moment. “So. Sorry if this is too forward, but. Are you...”

Trott sighs. The ice cream parlor is all but vacant, save for the two of them and two college girls in the corner booth. “I am a vampire, yes.”

Ross’ cheeks turn a vibrant pink, and he scratches the back of his neck. “Oh. Actually, first I was going to ask sometime else, but... Okay, um- do you...I mean...would you...”

Trott looks at the clock and then at Ross. Almost sundown. Vampires were weaker in the sunlight, but they didn’t light aflame or get destroyed by it. Despite this, most of the older supernatural crowd liked the night life. And the late night rush hadn’t hit yet. He still had several hours until his shift was over. “I drink human blood, if that’s what you’re asking. Drinking from humans is called ‘feeding.’” He narrows his eyes. “I have to lock up tonight, and then close the shop. Do you work tomorrow?”

Ross shakes his head, sitting up straight. “No, tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“Okay. So...look. If you want to hang out- we can hang out. As friends. Or...something. But if you just care about the vampire stuff...” Trott raises an eyebrow.

“No, no, I- I mean-” Ross clears his throat. “I just thought...if you wanted to, you know, I wouldn’t mind.” He gestures to his neck and chuckles. “Regardless...” He licks his lips. “Maybe I could take you out for lunch? Pick you up tomorrow, say four pm?”

“Is that a date?” Trott asks, pleasantly surprised at the turn of the conversation.

Ross nods. “I’d really like it if it was.”

Trott smiles, and starts cleaning up. “Alright. Then it’s a date.”

 

The two of them sit on the banks of the riverside park the following afternoon, shaded by large, shady oak trees towering overhead. Talking and flirting shyly turns into kissing. Ross’ half-eaten lunch is tucked beside him, while his arm is curled warmly around Trott’s waist. Trott leans into Ross, pressed against his side, fingertips barely tilting Ross’ chin as he kisses him slowly.

“Are you...I’m curious,” Ross admits, pausing for a moment, “Do you need to feed today?”

Trott strokes his thumb across Ross’ thin stubble. “I don’t have to. I could wait.” He didn’t eat normal human food, only drinking blood for sustenance. It didn’t have to be daily, but most vampires tried to feed as often as they could, in order to avoid starvation or dangerous urges.

“You must be hungry,” Ross notes.

Trott shrugs. “Are you offering?” He licks his lips, remembering the tang in the air when Ross had arrived in the shop hurt earlier in the week.

Ross blushes and nods.

“And you’re sure?” Trott confirms. “Because, I don’t want you to think you have to offer just because we’re on a date.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Ross says honestly, “Trott, regardless of you being a vampire, I’ve been wanting to ask you out. So. Asking if you want to...feed from me is just...” He shrugs, smiling shyly. “Extra.”

Trott finds himself grinning. “You’ve been wanting to ask me out?”

“Yeah. This cute ice cream server I see every time I deliver the mail? Who wouldn’t?” Ross smiles and brushes Trott’s blonde-brown hair out of his eyes. “Plus, I might get free ice cream all the time now.”

Trott laughs. “Well. If it makes you taste as good as you smell...” He smirks, and watches Ross’ throat move as he swallows.

Ross makes himself a little more comfortable, leaning back against the tree they’re sitting under, and tilting his neck toward Trott. “Well. Go on then.” He chuckles a little breathlessly.

Trott kisses him first, feeling Ross’ warm, slightly chapped lips against his. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he promises, “It won’t be very much, or take very long.” His free hand finds Ross’, their fingers intertwining, as Trott kisses along Ross’ jawline to under his ear. He can feel Ross’ pulse under his lips, his heart beating rhythmically in time. The river beside them laps against the shore, more serene than the space between them feels.

Trott bares his teeth and bites. The taste of Ross’ blood, heady and thick, engulfs his senses as he drinks. Sight, sound, touch- everything is gone save for taste. The same sour-sweetness is there like before, but the metallic notes of the blood cut through and the aftertaste is strangely sweet. The more he drinks, the sweeter it is; the better it tastes.

Though it’s tempting to take more than he needs, Trott draws himself back. Ross lets out a sharp gasp that stutters into a low moan. Trott comes to his senses again, regaining his sight, and hearing the river and the sounds of the city. Puncture marks are evident on Ross’ neck. There would be a vivid bruise for a solid week, at least. He wiped what he could of the blood stain away with his thumb.

Ross’ eyes are closed, his lips parted, overall paler than before.

“Ross? Are you alright?” Trott asks, frowning. They’re still holding hands. Trott squeezes his fingers, and sighs when Ross squeezes back.

“Yeah...” he mutters, “Dizzy.”

“That’s the bloodloss.”

“It was different than I thought,” Ross says, “Not in a bad way, but different.”

Trott nods to himself. “Most people don’t know what they’re getting into.” It’s why he always, always asks people if they’re sure. Most people are uninformed.

“Would’ve been better on a bed,” Ross grumbles, slowly stretching his limbs and rolling his neck with a wince.

Trott snorts.

Ross blinks his eyes open at last. Trott is glad to see those bright blue eyes of his. “Alright?” he asks again.

“I will be.” Ross smiles.

Trott sighs, and rubs his eyes. His own brain and body is buzzing with weird energy. After feeding he never knows if he wants to run around and do stuff or go home and nap for a hundred years. He hands Ross the bag with his food. “Here. Finish your lunch, mate. You’re sure not going to be eating me for sustenance.”

Ross grimaces, fumbling for his half-eaten sandwich. “Ham probably tastes better than vampire flesh, anyway.”


End file.
